


What's in a Name

by morganoconner



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Friendship/Love, Gabriel is a bully, M/M, Nicknames, Nicknames and Aziraphale's hatred of them, Post-Canon, Protective Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 20:33:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20395738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: No angel enjoys having their name skewered.





	What's in a Name

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written Good Omens in a very long time, but the new series broke something wide open inside me and a thousand ideas came rushing out. This...is not one of those ideas. This is really just a silly little thing I started for, um, reasons. It didn't seem right not to post it once it turned into a completed full-fledged ficlet, so I hope it brings enjoyment to someone. :)

Crowley generally enjoys the sensation of waking, opening his eyes to a world changed from the one he fell asleep to. Whether he's slept for an hour or a year, there's always some subtle shift – dreams that have been realized and dreams that have been lost, ideas both birthed and crushed, new areas of chaos and new places of harmony. Some changes larger than others, but always there, always waiting to be discovered.

Today, however, Crowley wakes to the sound of Gabriel's voice coming from the shop downstairs, and it is not an enjoyable experience at all.

It's been two years since the failed apocalypse, and while he and Aziraphale have mostly been left alone, every once in a while someone from Heaven or Hell comes to make a nuisance of themselves. Seems today it's the angel's turn for an unwanted visitor.

"Come on, Zira, we're all friends here, right?"

_Zira?_ Crowley mouths in silent horror as he slinks down the stairs, and from the other room, he hears Aziraphale's affronted, "Excuse me, we are hardly friends, and I've already told you—"

Crowley slips silently through the shop until he has Aziraphale and the archangel in his sights. He pauses behind a particularly large bookcase, and his mouth curls in a contemptuous sneer as he takes in Gabriel's large fake smile and the way he's flipping carelessly through something from the shop's inventory.

"Of course, of course," Gabriel is saying. "My mistake." The cruel disdain in his eyes promises there was no mistake at all. "But really, Azi, if you would just—"

That's it. Crowley won't stand for this assault on his ears. "_Azi?_" he hisses, slinking out from his hiding spot. He sees Aziraphale startle, but Gabriel must have known he was there, as he hardly reacts at all. "_Zira?_ I'd ask if that were a joke, 'cept we all know you're sense of humor crawled up your arse and died centuries ago." He sees Gabriel take an outraged breath, keeps talking before the inevitable tirade can begin. "You probably think you're quite clever, don't you?"

Gabriel doesn't even pretend at innocence, nor does he respond verbally, but there is hatred shining from those violet eyes, and it warms Crowley right down to the cockles of his demonic heart.

"You can't hurt Aziraphale physically, so you'll do it any other way you can." Crowley took a few steps closer. "You hate him that much. Could give some of my lot a run for their money, all the hate you have in you. But I've got bad news for you." And now Crowley is right in Gabriel's, so close he can feel ethereal ozone prickling at his skin. He lowers his voice. "You can't hurt him. Even if he was daft enough to let you get under his skin, I won't allow it." Simple as that, really. Crowley is done letting these tossers walk all over his angel. He doesn't know specifically what his answer will be if Gabriel asks how he intends to stop him, but there is hellfire singing in his veins and wickedness crackling through his fingers. He's ready and willing to use all the demonic powers at his disposal against this arrogant prat of an archangel.

"This abomination—" Gabriel spits, but Crowley cuts him off before he can get any further.

"Has a name. Aziraphale. Ah-zeer-ah-phale. Four syllables, should hardly difficult even for your limited cranial power, hmm, _Gabe?_" Crowley drawls that last bit out as he steps right into Gabriel's space, lengthening the name just to further the satisfaction in that clenched jaw, those tightening eyes. No angel enjoys having their name skewered, and the archangel Gabriel, so puffed up on his own ego it's a blessed miracle he doesn't burst, is no exception.

"How dare you—"

"Hello," Crowley cuts in again, ignoring the great scowl Gabriel is probably hoping will burn him to ash. "_Demon_. Of course I bloody well dare. Practically get off on it. Now get out."

Gabriel gapes at him. "You cannot order me—"

"Watch me," Crowley says, lowering his sunglasses so that he meets Gabriel's eyes dead on, knowing his demonic, serpentine eyes will make the archangel squirm. Bullies are cowards, when it comes right down to it, and powerful bullies are no exception. "There's nothing you can do to me or Aziraphale and you know it or you'd already have done. So, one last chance. Leave. Before I decide to conjure up some hellfire and see how _you_ like it." He pushes his sunglasses back up and offers a careless shrug. "I'll be scolded for the singed books, but it'll be worth it."

Gabriel growls at him – something Crowley has never seen him do and finds rather hilarious – but he also does, in fact, leave, heading back up on an angry-looking beam of holy light that makes Crowley glad his eyes were properly shielded in time.

For a long moment, there is an awkward sort of silence. Crowley sneaks a glance in Aziraphale's direction, only to find the angel already watching him, the slightest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Well," Aziraphale finally says. "I do believe you've only served to make him angrier." Crowley thinks it's worth noting that he looks more thoughtful than worried at that, and then his lips quirk up again and his eyes begin to sparkle. "But I must say, that was rather enjoyable to watch. Oh, he's been here every week, pestering me, using those…_nicknames_." The distaste is clear in his voice, and he's fussing a little with the ring he wears on his pinky finger, a habit he only has when feeling nervous or particularly tetchy. He meets Crowley's eyes again, though, and now a full smile blooms across his face. "But I daresay that will keep him away for a little while, at least. _Thank you_, Crowley. That was really quite brave, you know."

Crowley shifts uncomfortably even as a small (miniscule, really) part of him preens under the gratitude. He wants to say not to thank him, wants to say it didn't matter and really he only did it for himself anyway because those nicknames were horrid to listen to. He wants to wave it away and suggest they get sloshed on some fine wine and forget the whole encounter. Instead what comes out is the simple, honest-to-Someone truth: "They took my name from me a long time ago, angel. _Aziraphale_. I'll be damned twice over before I see them take yours from you."

Aziraphale looks a little misty at that, because of course he does. "Oh, Crowley. My dear."

"Don't—"

But Aziraphale is already stepping closer, hand reaching up to gently cup Crowley's cheek, and he feels his face flush warm and the heart he isn't supposed to have do a funny little flip in his chest. "I know it's not the name you began with. But the name you chose is every bit as dear to me as my own. And I promise, dearest, they will not take either of our names from us, not today, not ever again."

His eyes are fierce, and he is radiant in his conviction, and Crowley can't help but believe him. "Not ever again," he says, and it too is a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](https://breakaway71.tumblr.com/)! It's usually more of a catch-all for all my fandom glee, but lately it is definitely a Good Omens reblog emporium. :P


End file.
